


RWBY Writings (Drabbles)

by DarthSuki



Category: RWBY
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Multi, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-23 04:51:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: This is a compilation of drabbles of various topics and ratings for the RWBY fandom, originally from the tumblr blogRWBYWritings.The majority of these drabbles are reader-centric content and will be labeled according to included characters, topic and rating.





	1. Rules / FAQ

 

### How can I put in a request?

If you want to send in a request, please either send it in via an ask on the RWBY Wrtings tumblr blog, or comment your request on the first two chapters of this work (FAQ / Masterlist).

 

### What kinds of requests do you take?

I am very open-minded with requests, and are more than willing to do:

  * NSFW and SFW
  * Smut, fluff, and angst
  * Kinks and fetishes of all sorts!



**I will not write scat, gore, vore, or rape outside of a scene/fantasy format.**

In addition to the above, I’d like to specify that I have no judgement on kink, ship or whatnot, though please bare with me if I decided to take on a kink I’m not personally into or are familiar with–I may ask for clarification if needed!

 

### What characters can/can’t you write for?

In terms of personality, I will write for nearly every character of the show.

In terms of content, I will  _not_  write anything containing sexual activity with characters who are underaged (if they are written, they will be explicitly aged-up).

 

### How long does it take to fill my request?

Since these requests are for fun,  **the time it takes for me to complete a specific one can vary**. I go in and out of fandoms and have various responsibilities to deal with in my full-time job, so there may be times where I won’t have the motivation or inspiration to write much–but I’m usually more than happy to answer general asks and talk about all sorts of things!


	2. Masterlist

### About the Masterlist

This masterlist is to organize all of the content listed in this work based on character included in each headcanon. If you don't see a character in the list below that belongs to the fandom for this work, it's likely due to the fact that I either haven't gotten a request for them or simply haven't gotten to requests for them yet! Please let me know if there are any issues with this list.

* * *

This is under construction, please excuse the mess! 

###  **Adam Taurus  
**

 

###  **Blake Belladona**

 

###  **Bartholomew Oobleck**

 [Slow Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40149356)

[What are you Drinking?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40149611) 

###  **Cinder Fall**

 

###  **James Ironwood**

 [Pegging [NSFW]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40149464)

###  **Mercury Black**

 [Submission [NSFW]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40149569)

###  **Ozpin**

[Gentle Fluff & Trust Issues  
](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40149500) [Telling his s/o about his past w/ comfort](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40563962)   


###  **Oscar Pine**

[Crush](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40149308)

###  **Qrow Branwen**

 [Clingy & Drunk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40149281) 

###  **Roman Torchwick**

 

###  **Sun Wukong**

 

###  **Tyrian**

 

###  **Velvet Scarlatina**

 

###  **Yang Xiao Long**

[Reunited after the Fall of Beacon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073797/chapters/40149386)  
 


	3. Qrow: Clingy & Drunk

> _Omg I'm loving v6 so far even though the gang got split up again. But that's just for some team development. Can I get a drunk Qrow that's very clingy to his s/o and they have to just walk around with him clinging to him. Saying that he shouldn't be around them bc of his semblance and his s/o shushes him with a long hug._

It was hard to walk in a straight line, but not for the reasons most people would be led to believe when you’d later recall the memory. Your body felt heavy and your limbs hard to move as you walked out of the bar. It was glowing in the darkened evening, bustling with activities that only grew quieter as you put distance between it and yourself.

It was hard to walk straight, but it wasn’t due to a single drop of alcohol–well, none that you consumed, at least. No, there was a man hanging off your body, limbs gentle but firm in how they wrapped around you, his face pressed to your shoulder as he walked with a just-off gait to give away his drunkenness.

“Dunno why you don’t have a lil’ drink,” the man, Qrow, said with an amused slur to his words. “It ain’t gonna kill ya.”

“You drink for the two of us,” you said in a quick response, a smile already on your face from spending the last several hours with him.

You gently adjust the man so his elbow isn’t digging into your side, but it’s rather impossible to completely detach him–you’ve long since learned not to attempt. Qrow was always rather clingy when he got a bit drunk (at least when he was around you).

“If I got drunk, who would be able to get you home?”

You felt the man’s face nuzzle against your shoulder again as he seemed to mull over the reasoning, finally letting out a soft noise of annoyance.

“I’d figure somethin’ out,” The man drawls, body leaning heavily against your own. “Shouldn’t be relyin’ on y’like this anyway.”

Maybe it was how he said it, or maybe it was the sudden shift in the air between the two of you–or maybe even the way you felt one of his hands tighten around the material of your short in a fleeting moment of vulnerability. It passed quickly enough, though the concern lingered on in your mind as you opened your mouth to ask,

“What do you mean by that?”

“Babe. Sweetheart. Darling,” You stopped walking as Qrow’s overly-sweet petnames felt too heavy in the air between you. “You remember I’m a walkin’ bad luck charm here right? Surprised y’only dropped one glass tonight.”

“It was a little accident.”

“It was my friggin’ semblance bein’ like it always is.”

It’s hard not to feel worried over the hardness of his tone–a man who’s had many years to accept the fact that bad things just  _happened_  around him….and those he loved.

He didn’t give you any time to respond. You felt his arms cling tighter around you, his body close and his face almost pressed into the crook of your neck.

“Why are ‘ya even around me? M’gonna get you hurt. Don’t deserve ‘ya…”

His voice fell into a soft mutter as his lips pressed to your neck, his drunken stupor having rubbed away most of the walls the man so often kept up.

Your arms naturally fell around him, holding him tight against you as your bodies started to rock gently, back and forth. The motion seemed soothing, as Qrow didn’t continue with his mumbling and simply enjoyed the moment.

“You’re gonna have to do more than get drunk and have an emotional crisis to get rid of me,” You promised him. “I’m here for you, Qrow, no matter what.”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating something before he let out a sigh against your skin.

“No matter what?”

You rolled your eyes and moved one hand up to his head, gently stroking through his dark locks.

“No matter what,” came your gentle, reassuring echo.

It was a sweet moment. Qrow sighed into your skin, his hands on your back and feeling so warm, so strong, so loving.


	4. Oscar: Crush

> _Ozpin's favorite student turned Oscar's love interest?_

When they smiled, Oscar felt heat in his cheeks. When they spoke, he could feel butterflies in his chest. When they asked for help, he was almost always the first one to trip over his feet to offer it. It was a crush and Oscar knew it, embarassingly so since he couldn’t so much as keep a coherent thought going whenever he locked eyes with them.

But he couldn’t talk to them. Not personally, at least–it was a terrifying thought. What if he sounded stupid? Did something wrong? What if neither he or they had nothing in common? They hadn’t met under the most common circumstances, after all, and it’s not like he had any knowledge on who they were as a person than as a former student of Beacon Academy.

_[You know, they’re not that hard to talk to]_

A voice, the voice of Ozpin, former headmaster of Beacon and now resident voice in Oscar’s head (which is a long story in itself) had it’s times of definite advantage. Fighting, information, a quick catch-up for why he’s suddenly part of a plot to save the world from a woman named Salem–the things that really matter. 

_[If I recall, they were quite fond of cooking; you mentioned that sometime when we met, correct?]_

Any other time, on the other hand, Oscar wasn’t quite sure if he should be annoyed or terrified of the other soul residing in his body. It was as if he was being hovered over by a parental figure constantly, every second of every day–while he had gotten used to Ozpin’s general presence, he still wasn’t used to the man being so intimately apart of his day-to-day thoughts, worries and issues.

He just wanted to be normal. Have a normal crush, be normally embarassed and maybe get a  _normal_  date. 

“Seriously can you just, like, not help this time?”

At least Ozpin couldn’t hear his thoughts–not yet at least, not that Oscar’s ever asked or learned from the experience together.

_[You won’t get anywhere unless you ask the question. Or talk to them, in your case. They’re quite the student–one of the best from Beacon in regards to their skill.]_

_“_ Oum’s sake,” Oscar cursed beneath his breath. “Did you know them? Did they know you?”

Fate deemed it fit to laugh in Oscar’s face in that way–the one person he felt a warmth towards may not have known him well, but they might have known Ozpin, the  _former headmaster_  and  _adult_  taking residence in his  _absolutely not adult_  body. 

“I’m cursed,” The young man finally admitted. “I’m never gonna be able to talk to them.”

 _[It’s not the position I’d like to be in either, Oscar,]_ the voice admitted softly.  _[But you might as well try to get to know them–no point in being miserable.]_

Oscar groaned to himself, but had no words of argument. Their situation wasn’t ideal but Ozpin did have a point.

“Okay, but don’t give me any advice when I talk to them,” Oscar said, voice filling the empty air. “That’s just a bit weird.”

 _[I’ll make the attempt,]_ Ozpin said, a tinge of amusement in his formless voice.  _[But if they ask about the principles of the biology of Grimm materia, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you.]_

_“…what of the who?”  
_

_[They had a distinct interest in that class.]_


	5. Oobleck: Slow Down

> _Oobleck’s s/o trying to get him to slow down for longer than 2 seconds?_

In all honesty, you shouldn’t have found yourself all that surprised. His desk was absolutely covered in papers, after all, graded with red ink and haphazardly organized into several stacks. An organized chaos, you suppose, but not one that you’ll ever truly understand. Though you don’t take the time to step into his office to look more closely, you get the feeling that the papers are new–he had been up late into the night grading them, far past when you had fallen asleep.

Since Bartholomew neglected to come home and get his lunch, you felt it appropriate to bring it to him instead. Maybe you’d even be able to catch the tail-end of one of his classes; it was always nice to see him teaching, see the passion in his eyes and hear the energy in his voice when he was with his students–it was honestly quite adorable.

After traversing the campus and winding your way through the halls, you slipped into his lecture without very much interruption. It was easy to find a seat near the very back of the room as your partner went on about a lesson. From what you were able to pick up from the man’s rushed words and notes written on the board, he was going through Vale’s failed expansion of it’s cities, how they were susceptible to Grimm attack. He was  _quite_ excitable over the topic, though the puzzle pieces did come together when you took note of several empty paper cups on his desk.

Ah, supplementing a lack of sleep with caffeine.

From what you could see, many of the students looked legitimately interested in what he had to say–

Until the class ended, at least. The strike of a clock and the students were done, ready to head off to their next class or to a free period; you would have been surprised if any of them had actually remained, but it did leave you the moment you needed to complete what you’d come there for.

“You forgot your lunch again,” you said from the back row of seats, catching Bartholomew’s attention with a noticeable jerk of his face towards where you were.

“Oh! Didn’t notice you there dear,” The man said in a rush. “I suppose I was far too caught up in some of my personal studies between classes. You know the one’s I’ve spoken to you about? I was reading into some texts I found in the library and was able to find one written by William Vanderholt and in all honesty I-”

And there he went, off on a ramble that you had learned to love about him. You listened as best as you could as he went on and on, climbing down the steps to get to the bottom of the lecture hall. 

He continued to talk even as you approached him. Continued to talk as you set the bag on his desk, stood in front of him, reached a hand to his tie and–

Ah yes, the press of your lips against his did well to make him stop talking, even for just a heartbeat. Bartholomew didn’t pull away even as you let go of his tie, instead reaching his arms up to loosely wind around you, kissing you in sweet, coffee-tasting return.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as the kiss finally broke.

“How much coffee have you consumed?” You say with a quirked brow. “Honey, it’s just past noon and I don’t think you took a single breath in your entire lecture.”

It’s not hard to see the light flush on his cheeks.

“I haven’t consumed  _that_ ….much.” 

Even he doesn’t sound confident in his attempt to downplay the clear evidence on his desk, especially as you give him a stern, ‘don’t even think about lying’ sort of look. It’s not something that you’re mad about, not really, and that is hopefully obvious by your light smile and gentle sigh.

“Just sit down, babe.” You look over to his chair. “Seriously—and maybe get some sleep instead of trying to spend your entire night grading papers?”

Bartholomew seemed to mull it over for a few moments, looking at least mildly calm despite the fact that you were sure his heart was racing.

“That could be up for consideration,” he said at last, obviously weighing out his words to speak slower, a pace that was actually coherent. “But I propose a mutual agreement instead–perhaps starting with another kiss?”

With that, the man smiled this wide, beautiful, dorky sort of smile–a look on him that you absolutely fell in love with–and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and laugh.

“I’ll accept those starting demands, Mr. Oobleck.”

You lean forward and kiss him once more, slower and sweeter than before. It’s chaste and sweet, breaking after a few moments so you can press your forehead against his.

“But for real,” You whisper, peering over the top of his glasses. “Please don’t drink this much coffee before noon; I don’t want Ozpin having to tell me you died of a caffeine-induced heart-attack.”


	6. Yang: Reunited after the Fall of Beacon

> _Yang reuniting with her S/O who she thought died during the fall._

You thought you were seeing a ghost at first. In the middle of the busy train station, sitting alone and heavy with grief, you thought that she was nothing more than a painful memory finally come to life in your vision. 

Between your hazy, tear-filled vision and the frozen, unmoving stature of the woman before you, it wouldn’t have been a surprise if who you were seeing was a ghost, a specter, a haunting vision of someone who could have been one name of so many that had lost their lives when Beacon was attacked.

But it wasn’t.

She was really there.

A flash of yellow and the sound of your name filling the air, it was all the warning you had before arms wrapped tightly around your body, hugging you close and tight so you could bury your face into her soft, long hair and weep in open relief.

“I thought I’d lost you,” you cry into the woman’s hair. “I’d thought you died, you didn’t–I couldn’t get ahold of you.”

Your partner, your other, your everything–Yang–she shushed you gently, but never once faltered in her powerful grip around your body, almost as if afraid to let you go.

“It’s okay,” she said, face against your throat and shoulder. Was she crying too? “I’m here, I’m alive– _you’re alive_ –it’s…it’s okay, it’s all okay.”

It wasn’t until several heavy moments later that she finally let you go, enough at least so you could see her face, see the tears running down her cheeks. Despite it all though she looked so happy, so relieved. 

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked, reaching your hands to cup her face, gently bump your foreheads together just for the excuse of being close, to feel her near you again when you’d long-thought she was gone. “How did you-”

“We’re going to Atlas,” Yang said, breath rushed and hurried, as if breathless from seeing you. She wrapped her arms around you again, burying a hand into your hair; it felt cold, hard,  _metallic._ “We’re….on a mission.”

“We?” Is all you can think to ask, only just noticing the group of people as you peer over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of several faces. Some where familiar, while others were not.

You blinked, pulling back slightly from Yang’s hold so you can look curiously into her eyes, tears still a haze on your vision.

“I’m….coming with you.” 

The words don’t communicate the firm assurance that otherwise settles into your chest like a rock.

It doesn’t take very long for the two of you to talk, explain in a rush of information that you had family in Atlas, were going there for safety. After Beacon’s fall, everyone was looking for somewhere to stay, somewhere they knew was safe. You couldn’t help but relish on the knowledge your girlfriend was safe and okay and in your arms again.

“You and your friends can stay with me,” your gentle whisper assured. “I just–I’m so happy that you’re alive, Yang.”

A sob fell from your lips as the two of you hugged once more, arms wrapped tight around one another, as if daring for fate to pull you apart once more.


	7. Ironwood: Pegging [NSFW]

> _Let. reader. peg. Ironwood. I want to read more of him whimpering… also calling her Ma'am cuz guess who now is on top of the chain of command?_

The room was filled with the sound of soft, rhythmic creaking. It wasn’t all that much of an inconspicuous sound–anyone who had lived enough years would quickly add up what exactly was  _causing_  that specific rhythm of creaks. It wasn’t all too hard to put together that someone was getting fucked, though anyone with a room close enough to General Ironwood would probably get their guess wrong as to who was on the receiving end of said fucking.

The pace was hard and fast, filling the bedroom with an almost carnal sound of bodies in motion as they writhed against one another. Alongside that were the sound of voices, one soft and the other firm. Commanding. Powerful.

“I can’t hear you,” that voice,  _your_  voice, spoke. “You need to speak up if you want me to do anything,  _James_.”

The name was like a button, your voice pressing it hard–hard enough that the man beneath you, writing against every hard thrust of your hips to his, let out a sharp whimper. 

“Fuck. Me. Harder,” is all he said at first, eyes shut tight and legs wrapped around your body. He seemed so tense with need, barely able to keep himself together and his hands from ripping the sheets apart. 

His body lay beneath you in a mix of sweat-slick skin and metal that had long-since warmed to body temperature. He was beautiful, really, his face an open-book of pleasure and his mouth opening up to moan and sob with every hard thrust inside him, your cock brushing up against that sweet bundle of nerves made Ironwood practically  _shake_.

“That’s not how you speak to a superior, James,” You can’t stop yourself from sounding a little smug as you speak, pace slowing down in obvious disappointment from his lack of respect. 

You’re not quite sure if it’s the slowed pace or the verbal humiliation that has the most effect, but it nevertheless has the general writing that much harder on the bed. His hips are moving, trying fruitlessly to get the depth and speed that you’d taken from him. He whimpers, then whines, his back arching before he finally concedes to your taunting.

“Please, fuck me–” Ironwood’s face is red and flushed and his lips are practically  _quivering_ with need. “–ma’am, please. Fuck me. Make me cum–I need to cum.”

It’s such a rush to hear him say those words to anyone, but it’s so much of a rush to hear them said to  _you_. To see Ironwood beneath you, to feel his body moving against yours and his legs around your hips, it’s so good that you’re almost light-headed. It’s almost a shame that you can’t feel him around the fake cock filling his ass up, stretching the general open and making him beg so sweetly.

It’s all you can do to act unperturbed by the man’s moaning and begging–it makes your core so hot, your body so needing, but you’re able to put that all aside so you can drink up the sight before you.

“After that, I don’t know if you even deserve to cum,” Your pace picks up, but only a little bit–it’s nowhere near where you had been just before. “Good little soldiers remember to show respect to their superiors. I don’t think you’ve been quite the good little soldier,  _James_.”

The man almost sobs as his back arches once more–he just can’t get the level of pleasure he needs to crest over the edge. The frustration leaves him a mess, but a beautiful mess, still shaking and moaning every time you sink your cock inside of him.

You have the entire night to teach the man how to listen to commands rather than give them–you planned to make good use of every minute.


	8. Ozpin: Gentle Fluff & Trust Issues

> _Ozpin’s s/o (who knows he has made mistakes) trying to help him with his trust issues._

You knew he had secrets. Dark ones. Ones that claimed his sleep as nightmares, ones that you could see deep in his eyes on his worst days. 

Oh, how you knew that Ozpin had secrets, more than either of you could probably count. If anything, the man was honest about the fact, overtly so in fact, telling you explicitly that there were things about him that he never wanted you to learn. In some respects you found that fair; you chose to stay with him after all, holding his hand that night and telling him so.

The sins he may have committed, the mistakes he may have made–in the end, none of it matters; you love Ozpin all the same, accepting the fact that you may never know everything about him in the same way he knows about you.

But that is enough for you to love him.

* * *

Taking a walk in one of Beacon’s gardens was a popular choice of date between you and the headmaster. It wasn’t anything more special than any other day–just a peaceful walk through the carefully-kept flowers and thensome beneath the cool light of the moon and stars.

“Looking forward to the tournament?” You ask with a turn of your head, glancing at the man beside you. Your fingers are interlaced with his own, hands clasped and swinging lightly between you both as you walk. “I’ve noticed that there’s a lot of promising first-year students taking part.”

Ozpin hums, as if weighing how he wants to respond, and then gently tugs you in the direction of a bench to sit. It’s just under a tree, and while you need no shade from the gentle lights of the night, it’s still a pleasing spot.

“I am very proud of my students and their talents,” The man finally says as the two of you sit down, he still holding your hand as he unknowingly tugs it over his lap. “I think there are always promising young warriors every year–the ones whose passion burns brighter than anything else. This is…a good opportunity for them.”

“You’ve certainly seen plenty of these festivals to know,” A giggle falls from your lips as you both watch and feel him play with your hand in his. “I’ll certainly take your word for it. I was only able to see the festival when it was held in Vale.”

The wind picks up a little. You feel a breeze as it brushes past your cheek, swirling through the leaves in the tree above you. It’s only a little chilly, as Ozpin’s hands are more than warm enough to make up for it.

Fingers press into your palm, trace over your entire hand; you lean against Ozpin’s shoulder and almost  _feel_  him thinking far too hard about something or another.

“Something on your mind?”

You nuzzle into the man and let out a satisfied sigh. The night is so peaceful, so soothing; it wouldn’t take all that much to fall asleep right where you sat if you truly wanted to.

Ozpin stopped playing with your hand and fingertips, silent for several moments.

“I….am simply remembering something is all,” He assures, finally bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss it.

“Ah,” you sigh. “Another secret. I hope it isn’t something bad that you’re recalling, at least.”

“Oh no,” he says. “It’s…a good memory, for once.”

“Good,” You smile and nuzzle harder into his shoulder. “Then that’s all I need to know to be happy.”

It’s all you can say; all that you  _want_  to say. Though you are certainly curious for all of the secrets hidden behind Ozpin’s eyes, there is no need to pry them out, not at the expense of a man’s broken trust and shattered sense of self. You have been with Ozpin for several years yet, and never once did you ask about his secrets, and never will you ask for them either.

No, you love Ozpin no matter what; if he ever finds it prudent to tell you what he holds back, then you will be there to hear them.


	9. Mercury: Submission [NSFW]

> _Submissive mercury who is letting his s/o dom him for the first time? and they’re worshipping his body and being super sweet and he just kind of doesnt know what to do about it? thank you very, very much!!!_

It’s not clear what’s better, the look on the man’s face or the sound of the soft whimpers dripping from his mouth as he kneels in front of you, naked and exposed to your eyes and hands in equal amounts. Though you know the two of you hadn’t been going on for too long of a time it was clear that Mercury was more sensitive to the attention than you’d assumed he’d be. The man’s eyes were half-lidded and glazed with soft want.

“You’re being so good for me,” you whisper, letting the praise fill the air around him. You reach out to run your hands through his hair in tandem with your words, fingertips just barely pressing against Mercury’s scalp in the motion. 

Nevertheless, it was enough to make the man let out a soft, sweet moan.

It sounds beautiful. Hearing his lips wrap around the shape of your name, it was something almost indescribable in how it lit the fire in your belly.

You couldn’t help yourself after a few moments of enjoying the sight of him. Without breaking the motion of your hand in his hair you knelt down behind the man, letting your fingertips press over the top of his head, down to the nape of his neck and down the center of his back. He shivered against the gentle touch, body otherwise remaining still.

He hadn’t moved an inch since he’d stripped bare and knelt on the floor for you–not a single shift. Since his hands were unbound it was quite a surprise to see that he had obeyed you so well despite his growing arousal. It wasn’t much of a secret, after all; his cock was flushed and hard between his legs, standing stiff and eager for your touch.

Still positioned behind him, you couldn’t help but wonder if you wanted to indulge the man, if only a little bit for being so well-behaved thus far. The option was tantalizing. It wasn’t so often that you were able to see Mercury so raw and vulnerable, and it would be a lie that you weren’t curious to see how he might react to a gentle touch. You smiled and slid yourself up to press against his back, one arm curling around his chest while the other gently moved down the front of his body.

He let out a choked sob the moment your fingers wrapped around his cock.

“I’ve got you,” you said gently, lips against the shell of Mercury’s ear. “Just enjoy it–this is for you, you’ve been so good.”

It’s not a secret that he’s holding something back of himself, tension obvious through his body. Perhaps it’s his willingness to follow your commands, perhaps it’s his worry in letting you see him like this, or perhaps it’s something else altogether. Your hand starts to move either way, gentle, slow motions over the length of his cock. He lets out another soft sob that sounds almost like your name.

“Don’t you want this?” You ask after a moment, more curious than accusatory at all–you just want him to feel good.

“Yes,” Mercury all but cries. “I just–I don’t–”

You lavish kisses over his shoulders as he speaks, letting him find the words to describe how he’s feeling. It’s not something you can force out of him, nor is it something you  _want_  to force–you need him to communicate with you. It also sounds adorable coming from him, his hips ever so slightly pushing into your hand with every little jerk of motion.

“I don’t know–haven’t–not….used to this.”

The words ultimately settle as he lets out another soft moan, his hips starting to rock even harder into your hand. Your other is on his chest, gently rubbing and tweaking at one of his nipples, and your lips are still pressing kisses over every bare inch of his skin you can reach all the while.

“It’s okay,” You whisper into his back. “We’ll take it slow, alright?”

Mercury nods furiously in understanding. He’s quickly losing the ability to vocalize.

“Yea-ah,” He chokes, body shivering as your grip tightens on his cock. “Hand…feels good. Please. More.”

You smiled against his skin and held him close, not once stopping the motion of your hand over him–you were all too happy to give him as much as he could handle.


	10. Oobleck: What are you Drinking?

> _Oobleck’s thermos is his weapon so (at the very least) while out on missions his coffee is laced with Dust. Do with this what u will_

The three of you were only out for a short excursion. You, Oobleck and Port, not a brash-and-party sort of team and not a traditional one by any stretch of the imagination, but just enough for what the mission needed–it was something about Grimm behavior, a piece of information that Port needed (you honestly couldn’t remember the specifics, just that it would only take a few days at absolute most).

The students were on a holiday for the week, so it was the best time to get it done.

Finding the specific Grimm species wasn’t hard, nor were the instructions from Port for him to get the information that he needed for a future lesson. What  _was_  a bit challenging was when the pack of Grimm noticed the three of you and subsequently led to a skirmish. It wasn’t a long one but it was certainly annoying to have to deal with, especially after an exhaustive day of observations and note-taking at a careful distance from them.

As the metaphorical (and literal) dust cleared, the Grimm bodies dissolving into smoke, you couldn’t help but turn your head towards the familiar (and loud) sound of Oobleck taking a long sip from his…thermos.

His thermos.

The thermos that was also his battle weapon.

“Bartholomew,” you said with a measured level of caution. “You’re drinking from your weapon?”

The man stopped, looked towards you and tilted his head slightly to the side.

“Of course,” he nearly chirped. “Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been busy for almost twelve hours and I see nothing wrong with drinking leftover coffee from this morning.”

You stared at him, but Port was the one that poked at the elephant in the, well, forest.

“You…do remember that you were just utilizing your weapon; the one that runs on dust?”

Oobleck paused, froze, then glanced down to his thermos. The realization seemed to dawn over him as the color drained from his face.

“Oh my god,” you said, not sure to feel amused or terrified. “You’ve been getting high on  _dust_.” 

Still frozen to the spot, the professor opened his mouth to speak,

“Not intentionally–”

And then let out a hard, smoke-n-fire laden cough, one that looked far too reminiscent of dragons from tales of old.


	11. Ozpin: Telling his s/o about his past w/ comfort

> **Request:** Hi! Oneshot of Ozpin's reaction when he decides to tell his empathetic s/o the entire truth about his past with Salem and the Gods, and instead of getting angry or scared they start crying because of everything he has gone through.

When Ozpin finished speaking, the silence fell between the two of you. It was like a thick, suffocating cloud, holding nothing but the weight of the truth that he had been holding onto for longer than he could remember. How many years had it been since that last glance into his once-lover’s eyes? How long had it been since he felt even the mildest of fancies to tell another soul such dark secrets?

You didn’t say a word through his entire tale, eyes wide and ears open to hear it all. Every whisper. Every breath. Every word, tainted with a vaguely-restrained sob of shame and misery that Ozpin had saturating his thoughts. Though he had started his story with a distinct sense of professionalism and poise, he ended it in the same way as if just awoken from a nightmare. Demons skittered behind his vision, sweat gathered on his brow and his hands had started to shake--

Recounting his many lives, his very secrets, was obviously painful. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that you realized that he was more afraid of your reaction. He waited in that very silence, sitting across from you and lit only by the gentle glow of the fireplace. His eyes had fallen sometime ago, down into his lap where his hands wrung themselves over.

Waiting for you.

There was so much information to take in. It wasn’t a matter of  _believing_  the headmaster--you had long found yourself so deeply in love with him that trust was as natural as a heartbeat, a breath of clean air filling your lungs. No, it wasn’t a matter of believing him at all--you found yourself feeling his pain, his sorrow and years of torment in a world where there was no other soul to relate to.

He was a lonely man in a painful world, dealing with the curse of something he never wanted to begin with.

For a moment you wondered if it would have been easier to take if you weren’t so in love with him, an unbiased party privy to this information. The moment past quickly enough, leaving you regardless with wet heat behind your eyelids. It grew and grew until tears welled up, obscuring your vision no matter how many times you tried to blink them away.

“How many lifetimes?”

It’s the only question you can think to ask, the only words close enough for you to grasp and string together in a cohesive sentence. Ozpin takes in a breath, only briefly looking up to see your expression of painful empathy, and seems almost to look relieved.

He must have expected something different, something painful. Did he worry that you would abandon him if you knew?

The notion only made the tears come quicker, heavier as they rolled down your cheeks.

“Too many to remember,” the man finally said, swallowing down a stone in his throat. “But I’d never had one with someone I could....I wanted to tell this to.”

That someone was you. The depth of the gesture was not lost, but you were barely able to keep yourself together through the feeling of woe and misery for the man you’d devoted your affections to so many years before. How could anyone imagine what he’d endured? It was hard enough to understand what one lifetime of misery would feel like, let alone several--an uncountable number of years filled with shame and secrets he never felt he could never share with another.

Though the air still felt thick, the moment as heavy as lead, you found yourself standing. Soft footsteps preceded your shift, stepping gently around the coffee table to situate yourself on the arm of the chair Ozpin sat in. Without hesitation, without even a moment of nervousness you wrapped your arms around the man’s shoulders and gently pulled his face to your chest, cradling him with your lips against the top of his head.

Ozpin took the gesture with unspoken gratitude, falling against your body with little tremors wracking through him. You held him like for what felt like the whole night, feeling drops of wetness sink into your shirt and the man’s hands gently grasping at your clothes to anchor himself. 

At least there was one person in the world, it seemed, who understood him. 

Who loved him.


End file.
